Inner Peace Poem by Aimanu B. Ali

The morning in late autumn
misty and a little cold
much like the mind
slightly depressed and lone.

The landscape vague, unclear,
the earth seems pensive and gloomy
as it lies before me
like my life's november.

The rays of the rising sun
sweep away the morning mist,
all appear tranquil and bright.
My hopes with it return.

There goes the reaper
walking along the road
that leads to the paddy field,
trailing behind him is the gleaner.

I see(lying) on the courtyard floor
sheaves of paddy backed by the autumn sun
brown and a pale golden
and the soft and happy eyes of my father.

Standing beside him is my mother,
both beholding proudly the fruits of their toil,
father loved to be called son of the soil.
The pictures are still crystal clear,

only tucked away at other times
in some remote corner of my mind,
fountain of happiness, , when my heart is saddened
they are presented before the eyes.

As my heart bleeds
those happy autumns appear and disappear
just like my life's november
while I search for inner peace.